


Passive's Whumptober 2020

by chasing_stars_and_the_moon_with_11



Series: Good Omens: drabbles and stories [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A/C/G, Abandonment, And so do I, Angels cry Holy Water, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beheading, Blood Loss, Bondage, Broken Bones, Buried Alive, Carrying, Chronic Pain, Collars, Crowley Has Chronic Pain (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Crowley seeks Holy Water, Crying, Defiance, Don't say goodbye, Dubious care for snakes, Enemy to Cargiver, Failed escape, Hanging, Historically Inaccurate, Holy Water, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Imprisonment, Isolation, Kidnapping, Loss of Faith, Manhandling, OCs - Freeform, On the Run, Other, Pick who dies, Punishment, Rescue, Ritual Sacrifice, Run!, Scene: Soho 1967 (Good Omens), Scene: St James's Park 1862 (Good Omens), Scene: The Bookshop Fire (Good Omens), Self-Harm, Self-Isolation, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Struggling, Suicidal Thoughts, Summoning, Support, Take me/her instead, The Bastille, Threat of discorporation, Threats, Trail of Blood, Whumptober 2020, baby's first summoning ritual, broken down, broken trust, caged, collapsed building, forced to their knees, get it out, gunpoint, intended self-destruction, internal bleeding, no more, restrained, shackled, shifting pronouns, stop please, to lover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 7,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasing_stars_and_the_moon_with_11/pseuds/chasing_stars_and_the_moon_with_11
Summary: Good Omens Whumptober 2020.The first chapter is a table of contents/ prompt listNote: as I am writing things the day of, Tags and warnings are subject to change. Also, I tend to over tag to be safe, so please mind them.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens: drabbles and stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941526
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	1. Table of Content

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, I am doing Whumptober this year, with a little twist. Each day I will write three drabbles (probably 100-250 words) for that day’s prompts (with the alt. prompts as bonuses on some days). Then, in November, I will be revisiting the drabbles/prompts and writing full fics for the ones that I like or that people are interested in. They will be posted in series with this work. Happy spooks!

The M rating is just a guess, it may be raised in the future. That said, most drabbles will range between T and M, but this fic will always have the highest rating that applies, as well as any tags and warnings that may be needed. 

Table of Contents:

Ch 1. LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME  
Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

Ch 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY  
“Pick Who Dies” | Collars | Kidnapped

Ch 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY  
Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

Ch 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME  
Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

Ch 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?  
On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

Ch 6. PLEASE….  
“Get it Out” | No More | “Stop, please”

Ch 7. I’VE GOT YOU  
Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

Ch 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO?  
“Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation

Ch 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD  
“Take Me Instead” | “Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

Ch 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED  
Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

Ch 11. PSYCH 101  
Defiance | Struggling | Crying

Ch 12. I THINK I’VE BROKEN SOMETHING  
Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

Ch 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT  
Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

Ch 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING?  
Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire

Ch 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN  
Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong

Ch 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY  
Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

Ch 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING  
Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused

Ch 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO  
Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia

Ch 19. BROKEN HEARTS  
Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor’s Guilt

Ch 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE’RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE  
Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval

Ch 21. I DON’T FEEL SO WELL  
Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection

Ch 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU?  
Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal

Ch 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE?  
Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

Ch 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE  
Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

Ch 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS  
Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears

Ch 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD…  
Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

Ch 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD?  
Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

Ch 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS.  
Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

Ch 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR  
Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

Ch 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?  
Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

Ch 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE  
Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead

Bonus:  
1\. Punctured  
2\. Falling  
3\. Comfort  
4\. Stitches  
5\. Stoic Whumpees  
6\. Altered States  
7\. Found Family  
8\. Adverse Reactions  
9\. Memory Loss  
10\. Nightmares  
11\. Presumed Dead  
12\. Water  
13\. Accidents  
14\. Shot  
15\. Carry/Support


	2. 1. LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME  
> Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a smidge early because of the ao3 update. Do not expect this time often.  
> I have a few questions in the end notes.

Waking Up Restrained:

The thing that woke Crowley was not the twin aches at war in his head.It was the sting of holy ropes being tied around him. Of the headaches, one he could identify as the consequences of not suffering up after a magnificent drinking binge. The other took a moment to pin down, but was the headache that he had come to associate with being summoned. Reaching out with his senses, he could tell he was tied up in the center of a ritual circle, and due to that, could not feel anything beyond its edges. Hoping to get more information, He opened his eyes.

“Good morning, Sunshine.”

\--  
Shackled: 

There are many human experiences that Aziraphale enjoys. Being locked in prison was not one of them. Being locked in prison, prior to his execution by beheading, extra not enjoyable. Being locked in prison, prior to his execution by beheading, just because he was hungry and without miracles, well, you get the idea.

In all honesty, Aziraphale was not having a good time. The metal shackles were heavy on his wrists, he had been left alone in this cold, uncomfortable cell until dawn, and he was still hungry. Angels didn’t need to eat, but after so many centuries of sampling human food, his corporation had gotten used to regular meals. Also, he was pretty sure miracling his hunger away was just as frivolous a miracle as getting out of this cell. It was his fault he was in both situations, after all. 

The sun peeked over the horizon, and the door unlocked.

\--  
Hanging:

She should have known better. Visiting the states on a good day was likely to end in problems. But when she got the commendation from downstairs for causing mass panic in a small town called Salem, she had to check it out for herself. The fact that the angel was in the area was a lucky bonus (though he was busy in Boston at that exact moment).Of course that didn't help Crowley as she was at that moment being led to the gallows. 

The trail had been a sham (as most of them were). Apparently, you could be accused of being devil-sent for just coming to town as an unaccompanied woman (or in this case woman-shaped being). Credit where credit was due, she was both, but it wasn’t like she was trying to stir up trouble (at least not anymore than usual). 

The rope around her neck itched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question A: So right now I have filler names ( just [XZR], for easy find and replace) in place of names I'm not fully sure of. Would you rather:  
> 1A) I replace them now and potentially change them later when I write it out fully.  
> 2A) I leave the filler for now and only reveal the names when I write the stories.  
> Question B: Should I include tags for each section?  
> 1B) No, only for the whole fic.  
> 2B) Yes, with each section title.  
> 3B) Yes, In the chapter notes.
> 
> Thanks!


	3. 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY  
> “Pick Who Dies” | Collars | Kidnapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m just going to leave the filler name [XZR] in the drabbles for now. It's a stand-in for different people in each drabble, but I’m not positive who I want in those roles. I’m also going to leave the way I tag the same for now. Let me know if you want either of those to change.

“Pick Who Dies”: 

“It’s your choice, Aziraphale. You can kill the demon, or fall and join him in hell,” [XZR] offered. “After all, that where traitors belong.”

“But you need the Almighty's permission to fall an angel! I was following the Ineffable Plan, She can’t fault me for that!” Aziraphale protested.

“We can’t make you a demon, you are right about that. However, we can send you to Hell, and leave you there. You may be immune to Hellfire, but I’m sure they will figure something else out. As far as I’m concerned, they can torture you for the rest of Eternity, or until at least until we restart the war.” At this, [XZR] paused. “Actually, we can use this as an experiment, like your silly little humans. What does prolonged exposure to Hell do to an angel? Even such a useless angel as yourself could provide interesting information.”

“Of course,” [XZR] continued, “You could just do your job, for once in your miserable life, and kill the demon Crowley. So Aziraphale, pick who dies.” 

\--  
Collars:

The metal came together with a sharp click. The runes on the ring ensured that when it was closed it was seamless, leaving those who wore it both powerless and unable to get free. [XZR] took a step back, leaving the heavy collar around Crowley’s neck. They whimpered and squirmed.

“Oh do be good for me, my dear.” [XZR] purred. He tapped the collar. “This makes you mine. I would be terribly disappointed if you are not good for me. And you know what I do to things of mine that disappoint me.” With that, he reached under the bed and pulled out a bag of toys, causing another moan. “Now since you seem to need a reminder to be quiet...” he trailed off, reaching into the bag and pulling out a gag. “Open up, my dear.”

\--  
Kidnapped:

It had been months since their shared failed executions, and the last time Crowley had seen an agent of Hell. Those months had been filled with dinners and park visits, much as they were before. However, there was a definite change to it. Get togethers were now labeled dates, and Crowley now made it a point to show up on time, rather than fashionably, demonically late. He hoped Aziraphale would notice him missing.

Hastur had managed to catch him off guard right outside his building. He had been on his way to meet Aziraphale at a dinner celebration for another local bookseller. He had whined about going slightly and may have caused a minor fight, but was overall excited to spend the night on his angel’s arm. Now though, he had to hope that the angel realizes that he has been kidnapped and was not just sulking in his apartment. 

Hastur pressed something hard and plastic to the back of his neck and grabbed his arm. “Move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a bit early, but I wanted to post before I went to bed (because I don't know when I'm getting up tomorrow). I'm trying not to make it a habit, but I'm tired.


	4. 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY  
> Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like, I understand why it’s fannon, but know that for my stories, Crowley’s chronic pain is not caused by the Fall, but the Fall made it worse. Because my pain doesn’t have a reason, but falling sure as hell (lol) makes it worse.

Manhandled:

One wouldn’t expect the Infinite Heavens to have an edge. And yet, there it was. Opening down into the mouth of Hell. And as [XZR] was dragged to the edge, he finally appreciated the distance down. A great expanse of pure nothing was the only true tether between the worlds. The only place left in the universe where one could experience the true nothingness of Before. It was awe inspiring. It was terrifying. He was manhandled to the ground by the angels who had grabbed him. They surrounded his form, including his exposed wings, in chains. 

He was pushed, over the edge, into the void.

\--  
Forced to their Knees:

Having a corporation was, in all honesty, the absolute worst thing in existence. Granted, existence was a very new concept, relatively speaking. Time doesn’t quite exist yet, but Raphael was having a bad one. They had been recently floating around space, nebulous as the stars around them, when they were recalled to Heaven. Mother had wished for them to be one of the few to test out a thing called having a body. It had been awful. And painful, enough to force them to their newly incorporated knees in pain. Something was clearly defective with it. They took note of it, and promptly returned the body. If they had a say, they would probably never do it again.   
…

Crowley had gone through quite a few bodies since then. At first, he had just assumed there were still bugs to be worked out. Then, he blamed the Fall. It was only after many years of struggle and a depression nap, that he realized the problem might just be him. 

\--  
Held at Gunpoint: [Cont. of kidnap]

If it wasn’t for what was in it, Crowley would have laughed at being held at gunpoint with a squirtgun. But even from here, he could feel the holiness from inside the gun in Hastur’s hand. Hastur jerked his arm again. “I said, move! Now!” 

They did a shuffle step back into the shadows of his apartment building, Hastur being sure to keep the gun pressed to Crowley’s neck. Crowley swallowed. Time for some quick lies. “Hastur, you idiot! Did you really think I would still be scared of holy water?”

“I don’t trust Michael. Probably under-blessed it. That’s why the imp went and you didn’t. But this,” he brandished the squirtgun “This has been triply-blessed by three separate priests. And I’m not just going to get you a little wet with it.” At this, Hastur spun Crowley to face him and slammed him on the wall of the building. He proceeded to shove the barrel of the gun in Crowley’s mouth. “I’m going to make you drink every last drop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also am I projecting the fact I didn't know that being in pain almost always wasn’t just a default body setting and that it meant that something was wrong? Hell yes, I am.


	5. 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME  
> Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!! The fact that this has had over 200 hits in like three days is awesome!!
> 
> Please mind the tags! And let me know if I need to add any

Caged:

That call had been useless. No, it had been less than useless. If he had been able to plead his case to the Almighty and She had said no, that would have been useless. As it stood, the world was ending, and he had just been sent to what amounted to celestial voicemail. The world was ending, and his last hope, the reason he broke Crowley’s heart, just hung up on him. The world was ending, and- 

The bell above the bookshop door rang as Shadwell entered. He cursed, as he had hoped to get the drop on the demon within. _Better act quickly, _he thought.__

__…_ _

__Aziraphale was caged in, with the circle at his back and Shadwell between him and the door. Shadwell pushed forward, brandishing a lighter and muttering nonsense. Aziraphale ignored him while trying to keep him from the circle, going so far as to use Agnes’ book as a shield. Shadwell pushed forward, and Aziraphale was forced to take a step back. In between on breath and another, he was gone, on a one way trip to Heaven. The portal, having served its purpose, closed, leaving Shadwell with the slumped body of his former employer. Shadwell, being a practical man, scrambled to leave the scene, lest he be accused of murder, again. In his haste, he knocked one of the still lit ritual candles into a stack of loose paper, which quickly ignited._ _

__The mob may have been wrong about Aziraphale selling, but they were right about one thing: the shop was a tinderbox, and all it needed was a match._ _

__\--  
Buried Alive: _ _

__Crowley preferred to take the official entrance in and out of Hell. There were other ways, such as discoperation, but they definitely left something to be desired. This being Hell, one could not expect things to be comfortable, or to get sympathy when they are not. It would be a strange world if demons went about caring for each other. But it is one thing to wait in a tediously long queue for the elevators back up, or in the Hellishly (lol) long lines to the escalators to the surface. It is another thing entirely for maintenance to shut down that entire wing for prolonged periods, necessitating alternate routes._ _

__If it wasn’t for Beelzebub breathing down his neck about quotas, Crowley may have elected to stay down there in protest. Instead, he found one of few places where the barrier between Hell and Earth was thinnest ( often those places develop a spooky feel, from long-term exposure), where the concrete of the main office gave way to dirt, and pushed up. Inch-by-inch he dug his way out of Hell. There were places, little pockets of condensed Hell that grabbed at him, threatening to keep him buried there, alive forever in the dirt. No one would come for him. No one would even look. Hell would assume he had gotten pulled for punishment (or just didn’t care, as stated above), and the only one on Earth who may wonder about him was Aziraphale. But Aziraphale knew of the meeting in Hell and knew that sometimes Crowley was required to stay for extended periods of time. He wouldn’t be missed._ _

__\--  
Collapsed Building: [Cont. of caged] _ _

__The bookshop burned around him. The air was thick with smoke and paper ash as centuries of life were destroyed. The last sanctuary on Earth was going up in flames, with him in the middle of it, and Crowley didn’t care. Couldn’t care. Because laying in the middle of the floor, at the center of the chaos, is Aziraphale. Still in a way the angel had never been before, with a book clutched to his chest. Crowley crawled to his side, and oh so carefully held him. He knew as soon as he touched it that the body, home to his friend for 6,000 years, was empty. He was truly alone, in the burning shop, in the world, for the rest of time._ _

__His problems didn’t matter anymore. The apocalypse, Heaven and Hell’s war, the fact that he was a known traitor, the fact that he was being hunted, none of that mattered now. He had no reason to go on, now that he was alone. He could just stay here. Crowley was prepared to turn this collapsing building into his tomb. But Aziraphale deserved better. He deserved a proper resting place. And burial rites. Who knew where angels went when they died, but Aziraphale deserved the safest passage there. Crowley failed to protect him in life, but he could give him this in death. So, as the old wood around him finally succumbed to the fire consuming it, Crowley hugged the body tight to his chest and disappeared._ _


	6. 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?  
> On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

On the Run: [pre-Collapsed Building, during Caged]

That shouldn’t have worked. Crowley shouldn’t have been able to best two dukes of Hell. But with Ligur a puddle on his floor and Hastur trapped in his voicemail, he has a moment to catch his breath and think (while doing 90 in London, but who's counting). He is still very much on the run from Hell, he can feel the Apocalypse building in his bones, and, well, he needs to get to Aziraphale. He needs to get Aziraphale to see reason (he’s pretty sure he already has, if that message was anything to go on). He just needed to convince the angel that while the Earth was a wash, there was plenty of space to hide out in. They could run (from the war, from Head office, from the consequences) away together, protect each other, live together, love- Aziraphale wasn’t picking up the phone. There’s smoke in Soho, and Aziraphale isn’t answering. The shop is burning, and....

_“I’m sorry. The number you have tried to contact does not exist. Please redial, and try again.” ___

__\--  
Failed Escape: [Cont. of Buried Alive]_ _

__No, thoughts like that would not help him here. The problem with Hell (besides it being, well, Hell), was that it was really good (or bad) at making one miserable and keeping them miserable. It feeds off the misery, and grows stronger in order to procure more. It’s a vicious cycle._ _

__And right now, a buried demon is trapped in a bubble of Hell all his own. He knew there was no one coming to help him get unstuck. He was on his own. He was damned to be alone, buried forever in the dirt between worlds if he failed to escape. He tried to push through it, to ignore his mind, but his imagination fed the bubble, giving it the strength to start crushing him. Now he wasn’t just fighting his mind, but the physical pressure of his failures was weighing him down._ _

__\--  
Rescue:[cont. of Kidnapped / Gunpoint]_ _

__There was a moan from the demon in his arms. Aziraphale tried to hush him, holding him closer to his chest, being mindful of the burns on the demon’s face. Crowley groaned and shivered, before finally opening his eyes. When he caught sight of the angel, he panicked weakly._ _

__“Don’t worry, my dear. I have you. We are safe.” The angel shifted them to show that they were in the bookshop. “No, don’t try to talk. That nasty demon hurt you badly. Just relaxed and we’ll get fixed up.” He paused, trying to hold back a sob. He tried to be reassuring, however it fell short. “You’ll be fine. I rescued you and now you will be okay. You need to be okay, I-” At that the tears came in earnest._ _

__Crowley’s eyes fluttered closed, and the last thing he saw was his angel, crying._ _


	7. 6. PLEASE....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No 6. PLEASE….  
> “Get it Out” | No More | “Stop, please”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All three sections today deal with self-harm or thoughts of suicide, so please take care.

“Get it Out”:  
It was during the Black Plague that Crowley first discovered self-flagellation. The humans thought that through pain, they could purify themself of sin and avoid the disease. Crowley saw it as penance. Afterall, what was the point of the plague but a Godly punishment for Her former Healer. 

And so Crowley started taking the punishment into their own hand. First with a knotted length of rope, then, after many years and many faded scars, with a blessed scourge. Those scars stayed.  
…  
They traded the scourge for a blessed dagger, one they had stolen from a priest they had been personally sent to tempt, when the wounds on their back became too numerous to hide. Besides, now they could watch without mirrors, could see the wounds bloom across their skin, could look back at old scars and freshly healing ones. Instead of peace, the release of an earned punishment justly served, they itched, constantly. It was a sign that their work was unfinished, that they were still unclean.  
…  
He had hoped that the Apocalypse would have reset things, wiped the slate clean. And for a time, it did. The itch was gone; the urgent need to punish had vanished. For weeks, Crowley’s thoughts were filled with relief that they had survived, that they both were able to enjoy the world that came after, that they were together. 

But then the itch returned as abruptly as it had left. It started small, by accident in fact. It was a night where a good meal had led to an invitation to drinks, and an angel and a demon were thoroughly sloshed in the back of the bookshop. Crowley was in the middle of explaining some grand concept (gestures included), when one hand ran into the back of the other. He didn't even notice at first, still caught up in the haze of good drink and storytelling. But when he paused to take a sip, there it was; a small scratch, a dotted line of blood spots. And suddenly, he itched. 

_Useless little snake. You thought you could be happy? You are still unclean. And without the Grace of Heaven, how long until you taint the angel? You have already pulled him down so far to get him closer to you. How much farther can he be dragged until he falls? And it will be all your fault! ___

__Crowley stood and headed for the door._ _

__“My dear?” Aziraphale asked, also standing._ _

__“I have to go. Urgent business, I just remembered.” He inched closer to the door._ _

__“Urgent business? For how long?” Aziraphale looked concerned._ _

__“ Not sure. I’ll call, ya? Tah,” With that he was out the door. Not wanting to delay the time it would take him to drive back, he snapped himself back to his flat. He went into the bathroom, reached under the sink for the ornate box that held his tools, pulled out his dagger, and set to work carving the filth out of himself. He would get it out._ _

__\--  
No More: [cont. of collapsed building]_ _

__Who should a demon pray to, in the end? Should it be to those in Hell, to whom he is a known traitor and enemy? Should it be those in Heaven, to whom he is nothing but an adversary, one to be crushed under one’s heel? Should it be to God, whose only even answer was to kick him out of the only home he’s known?_ _

__Maybe, at the end of the world they shared, it’s only right for him to pray for his angel. That, as he stared down at the fresh grave, wherever the angel went, he could follow. That, even if he is unforgivable, his angel would be kind enough to forgive him for this. After all, he is the reason there would be no more Earth and all its delights. No more tea shops, with little cakes. No more dinners, sandwiched between shows and late night drinks. No more old books, no more collections from 6000 years of life on Earth. No more Angel. And now, no more Demon._ _

__\--  
“Stop, please”: [Cont. of Get it Out]_ _

__It had been a week since the last night they had met for drinks at the bookshop. The night that had ended terribly abruptly. At first, Aziraphale took Crowley’s departure at face value. The demon had a habit of thinking faster than he spoke, and he must have reminded himself of a prior appointment. As they had both agreed to treat any human connections related to work as business as usually for the time being, it made sense. Besides, Crowley had promised to call. But as the week progressed, Aziraphale grew concerned, then began to doubt. Even if the loose ends had required a bit longer to tie up, surely Crowley could spare a call to check in? Had something happened that night? Had Aziraphale unintentionally upset him? Or had their former employers come back for round two? That thought sent fear through him. The what-if’s had been gathering for the past day. Rather than continue to dwell, he decided to check in on Crowley.  
…  
Crowley was stuck in his own head and hadn’t registered the passage of time. That first night he had carved into himself under a blasting shower, stopping only when he had been unable to see straight. Then he slept (it was actually closer to passing out from blood loss. Though corporations are only imitations of the physical body and therefore do not need life-sustaining actions such as eating or breathing, there is a physical limit on how much miracling it can take before it shuts off. Think of the relationship between alcohol and the liver, but with magic. It can only process so much. So Crowley’s corporation forced him to sleep, both so it could process the miracle needed to replenish his blood, and also so he would stop harming it). The rest of the week progressed in much the same way.  
...  
He was busily scraping at his leg when the angel found him. Just repetitively dragging the dagger through his leg. He didn’t even register the door opening, or another presence until someone touched his hand. Then he heard begging.  
“Stop, please. Please, stop.”_ _


	8. 7. I'VE GOT YOU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No 7. I’VE GOT YOU  
> Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caregiver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enemy to Caregiver was inspired by this lovely art: https://vivi-theakuneko.tumblr.com/post/630951264567656448/free-acg-prompt-for-anyone-who-needs-it 
> 
> It's a bit early because I’m not feeling great and want to sleep. Enjoy <3

Support:

_“... As punishment, the demon Crowley is to incorporate his aspect and only his aspect for one Earth year, as decreed by The Hell Prince, Beelzebub.” ___

__…_ _

__That had been in Summer, when London (and his flat) could be expected to stay warm. Crowley had hid (mostly in his bed), opting to sleep away his ‘little problem’, rather than ask the angel, even if Crowley knew he would support him. However, now that the months had turned colder, and he was left without a way to miracle the flat warm again, he had accepted that he would have to ask for help to avoid freezing (discorporation during a punishment led to torture and a longer sentence). So, in the dead of night, Crowley slipped out of the window and down the side of his building, heading for the bookshop._ _

__He had miscalculated the season change, however. As he reached the street, the fat flakes of a heavy snow began to fall. Soon, he was having to nose through piles of the stuff. What was usually a ten minute walk, became an hour long slither, especially with how Crowley was sliding around (scales are not good on ice). By the time he reached the angel’s door, he no longer had the strength to lift his head. He was tired, and after bumping his head weakly against the door in an attempt to knock failed to bring the angel running, he simply coiled up right there on the stoop and fell still, as the snow continued to fall around him._ _

__\--  
Carrying: [cont. of collapsed building, before No More]_ _

__He reappeared at the edge of a cemetery, near the tree line. It was raining. He was crying. Crowley snapped a tartan blanket and a shovel into existence next to him. The blanket was used to gently wrap the body he was carrying, and he tenderly set the bundle on the ground beside him. He picked up the shovel and started digging a double grave. Every shovelful of dirt was another piece of Crowley, gone. Until he was empty. He was numb._ _

__…_ _

__When he was done, he carefully lowered Aziraphale’s body into the hole. And then he joined him, holding tight, and waiting for the end._ _

__

__\--  
Enemy to Caregiver:[based off an art prompt, link in notes]_ _

__Crowley left Heaven, confused. Gabriel had been so gung-ho about killing Aziraphale pre-execution; however, as soon as the other archangels had left, Gabriel had looked so relieved. Once they were alone, though, Gabriel had grabbed him, had pulled him close, and whispered his relief into Aziraphale’s hair._ _

__…_ _

__After the Ritz, the pair returned to the bookshop to find an archangel sat on the front stoop. Gabriel looked up as they approached. His expression shifted from relief, to surprise, to a deep sadness and longing. “Aziraphale,I-” Gabriel started, but then seemed to switch gears mid sentence, as he took in the scene in front of him. “I’m too late, aren’t I? I should just go.” He moved to turn away._ _

__Aziraphale and Crowley shared a look. “We were just about to go in for a drink, my dear. Why are you-”_ _

__Crowley spoke over him, intent on getting answers for earlier. “Why don’t you join us?”_ _


	9. 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO?  
> “Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation

“Don’t Say Goodbye”: [cont. of No More]

There was a church, next to the graveyard that the demon had chosen as their shared final resting place. It was small and unassuming, less grand than thousands of other churches in this region of the world. But on this night, for this one demon, it resembled the Heaven of old. Because standing at the front, was his last penance. The Holy Water. 

Though this walk burned just as much as the last time, the pain barely registered. Instead, the demon felt relief. Soon, very soon, he would be reunited with his angel. Mere inches from the font that held his certain demise, Crowley dropped to his knees and looked skyward. 

“Guess this is it, yay? You did it. Tested me to destruction.” He laughed, humorlessly, then sighed. “Well, this is my goodbye. Hope it was worth it, Mother.” 

“Oh! My dear boy, please don’t say goodbye!” 

\--

Abandoned:

It was a white room, with no visible light source, just the unnatural brightness of the walls. It was a perfect cube, 10ftx10ftx10ft. There was nothing in the room: no comforts, no distractions, no tasks. This was a punishment, but there were no discomforts here either. Just you, left alone in the room.

Aziraphale was very familiar with the room. He wasn’t a very good angel. And in order to correct him, the archangels gave him the punishment often. So often, in fact, they tended to forget whether Aziraphale was in there or not. They were always apologetic about it, of course. When they finally came to set him free. They blamed it on mis-filed paperwork, or a lost file. 

_Next time would be different,_ they promised. 

_If you think about, it’s your fault for being there in the first place,_ they scolded. 

_Just do your job right. Then we would have no need to correct you_ , they assured. 

Still, as Aziraphale wasn’t a very good angel, the need for him to be punished came again. And all he could do, sealed in the room with only his thoughts, was pray they wouldn’t abandon him, this time. 

\--

Isolation[Cont. of Abandoned]:

Aziraphale never doubted. Doubt led to the Fall. He may have been a bad angel, but at least he could still claim that. What he did have were misgivings about how bad of an angel he really was. The Arrangement changed that. It proved just how bad of an angel he was. He could tempt. He could take care of Crowley’s job well enough to earn commendations from Hell (Crowley had also done Aziraphale’s job well enough to get it mentioned in the weekly updates). Crowley had fallen down in laughter when he had told him. Aziraphale had gone home and cried. 

So, he was a bad enough angel to earn regard in Hell. He should be punished. But with how well Crowley had done his blessing, he could not expect the punishment to come from Heaven. Well, he was an agent of Heaven, surely any punishment he gave was just a Good and Right as that of those given in Heaven. With that thought, he set about recreating the punishment room. Some time in isolation, even if he was the warden, would count towards his trying to be better. That was the first time Aziraphale sealed himself away, the first room he built for that purpose. 

...

Now though, there is a door in the back of the bookshop that (for most people) leads to nowhere, or a storage closet, if you are an entity who merely has to expect things from reality for them to be so. But for one such entity, it leads to a white room, unnaturally bright and terribly lonely. 


	10. 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD  
> “Take Me Instead” | “Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

“Take Me Instead”: [more like take her insead]  
Alec was one of the newer members of the group, and was always eager to earn favour. So when the group needed more people for the silly ritual Mark had found in a book from his Gran’s (on his father’s side) attic, Alec was more than willing to suggest his little sister (not that bring your little sister to hang out with your friends is cool, but not only would it be helpful to the group, it would get their mother off his case about spending more time with her. Also, he had no other friends).

Alec didn’t think the ritual would work. But now, staring at a giant snake, all he could think was, _Take her instead. ___

__\--  
“Run!”:  
Millie regretted saying yes to her brother. Alec and his friends had promised that she would be safe, that all she was really there for was to add to the total people involved in the ritual. Her big brother had finally convinced her by promising to help with her math homework (her worst subject, by far). Of course, that was before they had managed to summon a giant snake. It was a very angry giant snake. One whom her brother seemed to be trying to offer her as a sacrifice to. Oh, hell no. No amount of math was worth getting eaten._ _

__Millie ran._ _

__\--  
Ritual Sacrifice:_ _

__Mark’s Gran (on his father’s side) was a witch. That’s what his mother always said. He assumed it was just code for the fact that his mother hated her, but now…_ _

__He had been visiting her, tasked with carrying old boxes from the attic to the living room to be sorted, when he found the book. The cover was an odd leather, with burn marks and old stains on the back. It was clearly hand bound, edged in gold trim, and if stood on its spine, would open to the same page consistently. On that page, there was a very detailed sigil and what looked to be instructions underneath. It called for a ritual, the more people, the easier, and a snake of any kind._ _

__Mark stole the book._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short tonight (and not focused on A/C), I'm still not felling well. hope you enjoyed <3


	11. 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10\. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED (AND GET BACK FROM HELL)  
> Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I had said that I might not do a chapter today because I was tired, but then we played among us, I stared at the computer for an hour (listen to Face Jam) and then I wrote this. Was it worth it?
> 
> That said, while I am trying to have/grow a buffer, I may have to miss a day soon. Either I will just update twice the next day, or I'll slip it in in November. It's a bummer (I'm really enjoying this), but if I'm too sick or tired to write, it's what is gonna have to happen.  
> Anyways, Enjoy!

Blood Loss:

He was dizzy, and dazed. He had been so sure he had left Hell through the London door, now however, after some time spent wandering the streets without finding anything familiar, Crowley could admit defeat. He fell (in a totally controlled slide, shut up) against a wall, and took stock. In addition to having no clue where he was, and being dizzier than he had been the time he swam in a barrel of port (as a stowaway snake), there was a hazy sort of fog to his thoughts, which added to his exhaustion. He was cold, and the puddle rapidly growing around him wasn’t helping. 

Yeah, his main problem was probably the stab wound. 

\--  
Internal Bleeding:

Crowley felt awful, and would have preferred just to sleep his problems away, thank you very much. The person (or man-shaped being) in the way of that was Aziraphale, who was, in Crowley’s not so humble opinion, causing a lot of fuss over something as minor as a little bruise. Though, in fairness, even Crowley could admit there was nothing little about this bruise. Since the check-in with Head Office, it had spread, now reaching from his lower ribs down to his hip, colouring his whole side an angry purple. It hurt (to move, to breath, to exist) and if it had been up to Crowley, he would burrow into his bed until it was gone. Instead, he had to watch Aziraphale (who had decided, after the last ‘check in’ , that they were to meet immediately afterward, especially in one of them (read: Crowley) was injured) bustle around the backless couch, hastily miracled in Crowley’s living room. The angel looked worried. Honestly, the angel looked like he was about to cry.

Something shifted when Crowley reached out for him, and the demon knew no more.

\--  
Trail of Blood:

Crowley was late. It shouldn’t have been too surprising. Aziraphale knew to expect tardiness post-appointment in Hell. Even so, Crowley was only ever late getting back, and Aziraphale knew for a fact that he was on Earth again (they had shared looks in the lobby). It was why he had set their meeting time for now, and why he was fretting that Crowley was late. Deciding to go find his wayward demon, Aziraphale headed to Mayfair, and the flat. Though they were more likely to meet at the bookshop (as it was, regrettably, a public location), Crowley was in the habit of providing the angel with his address as soon as he got a new one. 

Even without, Aziraphale could have just followed the occult energy which led, like a blood trail, directly to the demon’s front door, where it was joined by an actual blood trial. Oh, dear.


	12. 11. PSYCH 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11\. PSYCH 101  
> Defiance | Struggling | Crying

Defiance:

Crowley was defiant. He was one of the Fallen, of course he was defiant. He had seen the opportunity to get out of Heaven, and he took it. And when he found Hell just as bad (if not worse)? He found a way out of that, too.

But Hell doesn’t just let rebellious demons go free. Usually, they were dragged back down, very publicly and violently tortured, and then left to rot in a pit for the rest of time. Crowley was defiant, yes, but he wasn’t stupid. Which means he needs a back-up plan, some insurance, for when Hell comes for him. Luckily, he has something the other wayward demons didn’t. A guardian angel.

Crowley was defiant. And as soon as he could see Aziraphale again, he would be safe. 

\--  
Struggling:

Gabriel doubted. It was a novel experience. Pre-apocalypse, he believed in the Great Plan and that by doing everything by its letter, he was Just and Righteous. Even in the time post-apocalypse but pre-execution, he still believed that he was acting in favour of Heaven, in favour of Her, and was therefore Good. But now, after everything? After the world failed to end, the war failed to start, and one disobedient traitor, who had stayed an angel, failed to burn?

Gabriel doubted. He doubted his place. He doubted his actions. He doubted his Justice, his Righteousness. He doubted the world. He doubted the war. He doubted Heaven. What was Good? Did it even matter, in the end? 

Gabriel doubted. He struggled with Doubt. And in Doubt, he began to Fall.

\--  
Crying:

_“The holiest.” ___

__Aziraphale wasn’t exaggerating. That thermos contained the Holiest Water. But where does an angel get such Holy Water when said angel couldn’t just take it from heaven?_ _

__Soho had been his home for centuries. Even before the bookshop, before he consciously decided to have a permanent base, he had gravitated to spot, whether it was long-term lodgings or simply a lay-over before he was off on assignment again. As such, he was very involved in the community. So when he heard of a heist, proposed by a red-head with sunglasses and a disregard for the money he was flashing around, he knew his intervention was needed. Even though his opinion hadn’t changed in the hundred odd years since Crowley last asked, he couldn’t just let Crowley go through with his scheme. Giving him what he wanted was dangerous, but trusting humans to get it was more so._ _

__With that thought in mind, along with all his worries and fears regarding (and his love for) the demon, Aziraphale cried, gathering his tears in a bowl. When he was done, he poured the holy gift into a tartan thermos, and with one final blessing, sealed the top. He wiped his face, and set off to meet his friend, hopefully not for the last time._ _


	13. 12. I THINK I’VE BROKEN SOMETHING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12\. I THINK I’VE BROKEN SOMETHING  
> Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

Broken Down:

It was Crowley’s chair that reminded him. A straight-backed, uncomfortable-looking throne which had made him long for his armchair. The armchair in the bookshop. The bookshop that had burned. His home was gone. Heaven had been a home to him, once. But Heaven was closed to him now. He had burned that bridge. It was now unsalvageable, nothing but ash. Just like the bookshop. Oh.

Aziraphale was crying, not that he noticed at first. It was the kind of tears that just sorta overflow, a release of too many pent up emotions. The sort of tears that are just there. Aziraphale moved away from the chair, vaguely making note of the stain on the floor. The wall in front of him gave, revealing the demon’s magnificent garden. Oh, he had been meaning to give Crowley a lovely plant he had rescued from an estate sale he had been looking for books at. He wondered where he had left it…

The memory, of where the plant was, and the thought, that it must have burned too, hit at full force. It was truly all gone. He slumped where he was standing, fully giving in to the tears. There, surrounded by his dear demon’s Eden, the angel finally broke down.

\--  
Broken Bones:

It had been an accident, this time. Crowley had been a bit too drunk, gestured a bit too wildly, and with a crunch, had smacked the tip of his wing against the nearest bookcase. Luckily, Aziraphale was just as intoxicated and didn’t notice ( _or just doesn't care about a demon_ , whispered a traitorous part of his mind). Either way, no reason to trouble the angel with something so small. Yes, it hurt, but that was what booze was good for. By morning, he would be fine.

…

And he was, then. But now, with a decidedly worst break in his wing and nowhere to go, Crowley was very much not fine. It hung limply behind him, cradled as close to his body as possible, but still bent out in a way that showed something was wrong with it. He had managed to keep it almost fully intangible and only partially visible as he made his way through London and back to his flat. He made it to his front door before collapsing into a pile of feathers and pain.

\--  
Broken Trust [IMPLIED CHARACTER DEATH]:

_“Don’t go unscrewing the cap.”_

105 years ago, an angel said no to a demon, and broke his heart. 6 hours ago, the demon made plans for a heist. 5 hours ago, the angel fulfilled the demon’s request, then re-broke his partially mended heart. 4 hours ago, The demon went for a drive, out of the city, to see the stars. 3 hours ago, the angel prayed for the safety of his friend. 2 hours ago, the demon was home, drinking his way through his liquor cabinet.. 1 hour ago, the demon poured his last drink. He took his time, waiting for dawn.

…

Aziraphale watched the sunrise on his way to Mayfair. He had felt it, when his prayer failed. When the demon broke the trust they shared. When he became the only one of angel stock left on Earth. He already knew, but he had to be sure. He made it to the flat. He was truly Alone.

_You went too fast for me, my Dear._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it may be a few days, but I'll be double updating soon to make up for missing a day.  
> Take care <3


	14. Note (I'M STILL WRITING)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, this is just an update of my plan for this. I'm still writing!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is not a chapter, but I felt the need explain myself an then give a new game plan.

I’m sorry I fell off the map. Besides needing to replace my computer, the past few weeks have been really rough and I decided that spending time with people (and Minecraft, so much Minecraft) would be better for my mental health than trying to force myself to write something. That said, I really enjoy doing this and want to finish (and to keep writing, either these stories or the others I have planned). So here’s how things are gonna work, I’m not going to make myself a time deadline, because all that will lead to is me being disappointed in myself (and I’m not gonna promise y’all anything ‘cause then we will both be disappointed in me, and I really don’t want that). Instead, I’m going to aim to simply write something daily. It may not be a full set of prompts, but every little bit chips away at the monstrous to-do list I’ve made for myself. That said, I thrive on attention, so updates to this will come out as soon as I finish a prompt set (as opposed to daily), until I finish the list. After that, I hope to start working on some longer fics, including making some of these drabbles into stand-alone full-length fics.   
Anyways, thanks as always for reading and sticking with this. If you enjoy how I write Good Omens, and are interested in more, consider following the series, as that is where I will be putting both the full-length forms of the prompts and any other GO works that have been living in my brain. <3

**Author's Note:**

> See y'all in October


End file.
